


Cabin Fever

by Bluepinky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bucky in a floral shirt, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Memory Alteration, Red Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 04:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluepinky/pseuds/Bluepinky
Summary: When the Black Widow is left in a small cabin with the Winter Soldier after a mission, she decides to learn about the man under the machine. The Soldier is reluctant at first, but slowly, as the days go by, he lets her look into his half-empty, half-made up world. And maybe she learns a thing or two about herself in the process.Not knowing what is happening in the outside world, they obediently wait for the Red Room to extract them, or at least let them know what is going to happen next, but no one is coming and they are about to learn why.





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited for you guys to read this! This one was really fun to write, mainly because of [gil-estel](http://gil-estel.tumblr.com/) beautiful illustrations.

The first day of radio silence was more eerie than anything else. It had started raining the day before and it didn’t look like it was going to stop any time soon. The air in the small cabin was thick with the smell of wet wood and sweat, and Natasha was starting to get nervous. She had no idea what was happening. No one had come to extract them as they were supposed to, and the radio was nothing more than a string of annoying sounds that made her teeth grind.

 

She was sitting by the window, looking out into the darkness, trying to see shapes other than the trees that were surrounding them from every angle. It was almost idyllic, romantic even, if it weren’t for the fact that just 18 hours ago she had killed an innocent woman. The woman was young and beautiful, and her only crime had been falling in love. That word always left a sour taste in her mouth, and this was one of the reasons why. Wasn’t that what they had always taught her? Love is a weakness. Fall in in love and you will die.

 

Natasha chanced a look at the Soldier sitting on the other side of the room, his back leaning against the wooden wall, cleaning his weapons for the fourth time. She could see the way the plates of his metal arm opened and closed, the way they turned with his every move and even hear the soft whirr of his metal arm.  She’d never seen him just in his shirt outside of the sparring ring, where she had had no time or mind to admire it. On missions, he rarely took off his tactical suit.

 

He seemed calm, unbothered by the whole situation, so she figured there was probably no reason for her to be nervous. “Maybe this is just another test, maybe that’s why he is so calm,” she thought. The thing was, she had no idea if he was even capable of being nervous. She’d never seen any emotions beside a slight rise in his voice when she fucked up and maybe a little quirk of his lips on their last mission when she took down a man twice her size. She still wasn’t sure if it was real, or if it was just a shadow on his face.

 

She wanted to get under his skin, to know if there was something human under all the violence and missions. Girls back in the Red Room had always tried to tease a reaction out of him, usually by making crude comments, but none of them succeeded. They used to call him Robot behind his back, and Natasha laughed with them, trying to quiet the voice in her head telling her they were all robots too, just with a little less experience. Maybe this was what her future looked like: feared by everyone in every room she stepped into, but never really having free will; someone always giving her orders, someone controlling her every step…

 

She had always thought that after graduation, after proving her loyalty, she would have more freedom, but now she felt even more trapped than before.

 

“Go get some sleep.” The Soldier raised his eyes, looking unbothered that he caught her staring. She didn’t look away, didn’t feel bad or embarrassed. After all, he probably already felt her gaze on him.

 

He stood up, pocketing his knife and walking toward the window where she was sitting. Despite his heavy boots, he was completely silent.

 

“You didn’t sleep,” Natasha pointed out, but she stood up, looking up at him as he moved past her and sat on the chair.

 

He didn’t answer, and so Natasha moved to the little couch, sitting down. She knew he hadn’t slept for at least two days, but somehow he seemed unfazed by it.

 

“So, what? You don’t need to sleep?” She rested her chin on the back of the couch so she could look at him.

 

He didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

 

“Are you sleeping right now?”

 

“I’m not tired,” he finally answered, and she could see his shoulders drop as if he had been arguing with himself and had finally decided to just give up and give her what she wanted.

 

She decided to try and push. Just a little bit, but it was still more than he ever gave her. “Doesn’t really answer my question, does it?”

 

“I do need to sleep. Just not as much as you do.” His voice was monotonous, no sign of annoyance or irritation.

 

Natasha hummed thoughtfully. She knew there was something different about him, metal arm aside. But he was different in a way that reminded her of herself.

 

Again, Natasha started to wonder if he had started out just like her. Trained since childhood, molded into the name. Speaking of names…

 

“Just ask,” the Soldier said with a sigh.

 

Natasha realized she had zoned out. Her fingers had started playing with the old, ugly, yellow fabric of the couch as she had become lost in thought. He was looking right at her like he just wanted this conversation to be over.

 

“You know,” she started carefully, not knowing if she was crossing any lines. “I don’t know your name.”

 

The Soldier blinked, his gaze moving to the floor. His brows furrowed, and he was silent for a good few minutes.

 

Had she pissed him off? It was hard to tell with only one table light on the other side of the room, but then he looked up. His expression was somehow softer and yet, still unreadable.

 

“Call me whatever you want,” he said finally.

 

Natasha wondered how to respond, how to maybe get some reaction out of him. It took her several seconds to go through some answers she could use. Some tame and some so pushy she couldn’t imagine him talking to her ever again. In the end, she settled on the one that she was most comfortable with.

 

“Are you flirting with me, Soldier?” She did not use the teasing voice that she had learned most men responded to; she was sure he wouldn’t be one of them. Her tone was more flat, sarcastic.

 

He shook his head, turning to look out the window again. “You’ll know when I’m flirting with you, Natalia.”

 

With heavy raindrops drumming against the window and her uneasiness about this whole situation, it took Natasha a long time before she fell asleep.

 

Her dreams did not bring anything new. Fire, snow, muddy footprints left by heavy boots, arms grabbing at her, and Natasha, frozen on the ground, unable to get up, unable to scream.

 

“Natalia.” A voice in the background; soft and reassuring, out of place.

 

She was still struggling on the ground, only now it was hardwood floor, and the hand grabbing at her was metal. It was cool against the back of her neck, gently tickling her skin as the fingers brushed the short hair there. She felt the corners of her mouth quirk up, relaxing under his touch.

 

“Natalia.” This time the word was whispered into her ear. His voice was rough and breathless as he tightened the hold on her neck, but she didn’t struggle. Instead, she closed her eyes and listened to the way her name sounded coming from his lips, how it felt on her skin...

 

Her eyes fluttered open. The cabin was still dark even though it had to be almost noon. The rain hasn’t stopped, and it looked like it had even picked up intensity.

 

She heard a noise from the tiny room that doubled as a little kitchen; however, it was not the sound that got her attention, but rather the smell of food being cooked.

 

With her mind still clinging to her dream, Natasha got up and carefully followed the smell. The Soldier had her back to her, shirtless, his pants damp and his hair wet. She couldn’t look away from him, watching his muscles working as he moved, admiring his wide shoulders and the dip of his waist...

 

“Sleep well?” he asked in a way that made her think he was smiling. She blamed the dream for how warm it made her feel.

 

“Kind of,” she shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, but she felt almost nervous in his presence, which was something she had not experienced in a long time. Even back when they first met she had been more scared than anything else.  

 

Natasha walked up to him, trying to look over his shoulder to see what was producing that delicious smell.

 

“Are you cooking?” She was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. There was a piece of meat on a frying pan next to something green she couldn’t identify.

 

He didn’t answer.  Then again, him asking her how she slept was already more than she expected from him.

 

“You were outside.”  She looked up at him. His hair was sticking to his temples and forehead, and it would explain the wet pants and lack of shirt. When he still didn’t say anything Natasha decided to just let it go. It was probably for the best, anyway.

She reached past him and took a piece of the green thing from the pan, then leaned over the tiny sink to grab the radio from the window sill.

 

“I saw a rabbit,” he said just as she was leaving to return to the main room of the cabin with the radio in one hand and her stolen food in the other.

 

“Of course you did.”

 

She knew he looked over his shoulder at her after that and maybe she even swayed her hips a little more.

 

Natasha sat down on the floor, her stomach growling even more now that the cabin was filled with the smell of cooking meat. To distract herself, she started playing with the radio, but no matter what she did, it was all just a string of noises, but she did not expect anything else. Especially not when the weather outside looked more and more like a nightmare.

 

“I’ve already tried that.” The Soldier walked into the room with two plates, handing her one and then sitting down by the window, where, as far as she could tell, he had passed the night.

 

She watched him eat with his hands, juices sliding down his chin.

 

“Do you know how to cook?” She had never learned; there was never any need for her to know how to cook. In the Red Room they fed them, and out on a mission she had her rations. This, the rabbit he’d prepared, wasn’t anything fancy or beyond her limited abilities, she was just curious. She wanted to know if his upbringing was the same as hers. Needed to know.

 

“I-I think so.” He didn’t look up from his plate, didn’t change his tone, but his movements became slower and his brows furrowed.

 

She finally bit into the rabbit. It was a bit chewy and gamey and without much flavor, but she was too hungry to mind.

 

“Did they teach you?” She did not look at him, her voice even and uninterested, trying to appear as if she was just attempting to pass the time.

 

He was quiet. Again.

 

At first Natasha had really dug the whole mysterious, quiet thing he had going on, but right now, it was starting to get on her nerves. She wanted some answers, _needed_ them, and it was frustrating that she couldn’t just ask. She couldn’t risk him reporting her questions to his handlers.

 

Natasha was ready to just drop it. To just let it all go and hope that someone would come for them soon, but then the Soldier put his plate down.  It was a slow, calculated movement, but his knuckles seemed almost white from the force with which he was holding it.

 

“A woman with black hair. She taught me to cook… I think.” His voice was soft, unsure. The fingers on his left hand twitched and then curled up into a fist.

 

It was the first time she had ever seen him lose control over his emotions.

 

“Your mother? Do you remember your mother?” she asked eagerly, knowing there was something off about all this. About him.

 

“I-I…” he choked up. “I don’t fucking remember!” His metal fist hit the table and it broke down, the plate flew to the ground, breaking into little pieces. “I don’t fucking remember, okay?! I don’t know who she was! I don’t know my name! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” He stood up, glaring down at her. If he didn’t look more confused than angry, she’d have been scared.

 

So he wasn’t being mysterious, he just had no idea who he was.

 

“I don’t remember either…. at at least I think I don’t,” she scoffed at herself, her life really. He was still breathing hard, his gaze boring into her, it wasn’t until he saw something in her face, self-loathing maybe, that he relaxed. “I don’t know which memories are real and which ones they put in there.”

 

He watched her for another moment and Natasha wondered why she’d ever called this man a Robot. He showed more emotions and depth that morning than any man or woman she’d ever met in the Red Room combined, maybe even more than her.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

 

“You should get some sleep.” She stood up and went to the kitchenette to put away her plate. And to calm herself down a little; not because of him, but because she said something she shouldn’t have. Something she didn’t even know for sure, but it haunted her all the same.

 

When she came back, he was lying on the yellow sofa, his eyes screwed shut.

 

It was almost heartbreaking to see someone like him, someone so strong and sure, to be just as helpless as she was. She wanted to touch his hair just to let him know it was alright, but she ended up sitting by the window with the radio in her hands. At first, she was really trying to get any signal, switching through channels with determination, but as hours passed and the rain stopped, she was just switching it on and off out of boredom.

 

The Soldier was snoring peacefully. It had to be almost midnight, but Natasha didn’t want to wake him up. He needed some rest, and she needed some alone time.

 

She couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. He didn’t remember his name and probably most of his life before Hydra took over. He was lost just as she was. Lost in a world where maybe and probably were the most reassurance they got.

 

Natasha stood up and went to the kitchen for something to drink. The water was still room temperature; it didn’t refresh her, didn’t satisfy her thirst.

 

The Soldier grunted as if in pain, but when Natasha popped her head back into the main room, he was sleeping peacefully. Asleep, he looked so much younger—relaxed, no signs of worry or fear. Looking at him like this, Natasha would guess that he wasn’t much older than she was, maybe even the same age as her; but the poor man probably didn’t know his birth year, let alone birth _day_ , either.

 

Suddenly he stirred, his face crumpling in pain and all his muscles taut.

 

“Three-two-five-five-seven-zero-three-eight.” He spoke slowly, carefully. She had no idea what the string of numbers could mean. “Three-two-five-five-seven-zero-three-eight,” he continued, his whole body beginning to tremble. Natasha quickly crouched down next to him, shaking him gently, but he just kept repeating the same numbers, each time with more and more intensity.

 

“Soldier!” Natasha snapped, frightened.

 

“Steve!” the Soldier yelped as he stood up so quickly Natasha found herself on her ass a few meters away from the couch.  His barely passable Russian accent had vanished, but with just with that one word Natasha wasn’t able to place the one he spoke with.

 

He looked like a frightened animal waiting for her to attack him, considering whether he should attack first.

 

Steve? Natasha’s suspicion that he wasn’t from any part of the USSR, as the Red Room tried to pretend, was right. It sounded more western. British, or American maybe.

 

Natasha extended her hand to him slowly and he recoiled away from her, but his eyes started to focus. In that same moment, the doors of the cabin swung open and a man ran in. His clothes were drenched, panic visible on his reddened face. He was out of breath as if he was had run for miles.

 

He looked familiar, and Natasha realized she’d seen him before. He had worked for the Red Room in Romania, but before she had a chance to react, the Soldier had his fingers around the man’s neck.

 

“The— the Red Room,” he tried to choke out, scratching at the metal arm. Natasha saw the Soldier ease his hold, but didn’t let go completely.

 

“The Red Room,” the man said again, his voice raspy and not much louder than a whisper. “The Americans — Captain America raided the Red Room, everyone’s dead, I’m here to take you—“ he didn’t get to finish as the Soldier’s fingers tightened around the man’s neck once again; it took mere seconds before Natasha heard the crunch she was so familiar with, and the man’s head lolled uselessly before the Soldier finally released him. His body hit the ground with deep thump that sounded more like an earthquake in the ensuing silence.

 

Natasha looked at the Soldier. He was staring at the man on the ground as if it was the first time he had noticed that the man was even there. He took a few steps back, the feral look in his eyes turning into fear as he realized what he had just done—realized the consequences he’d face for it.

 

Natasha realized something too—the Red Room was in shambles. Of course the KGB had numerous bases around Europe, but with the Americans hitting the main artery it wouldn’t take long for them to get to the others as well.

 

Freedom.  

 

Natasha got herself off the ground and went straight to the kitchen, taking everything they still had left and put it in their bags. She put on her leather jacket and threw the Soldier his undershirt and the floral shirt he wore when they were undercover.

 

He caught it without even looking at her, but instead of putting it on, he stared at it.

 

“Put it on! What the fuck are you waiting for?” she yelled at him, which seemed to jar him out of his little trance.

 

As he was putting on the clothes, Natasha checked their guns and then took the gun and a small knife the intruder had on himself. She even took some cash from his wallet.

 

She was in such a frenzy, so blinded by the possibility of getting out, she did not realize the Soldier was talking to her.

 

“What?!” she asked impatiently.

 

“They will come for us.”

 

That was true, something she had thought of, but hadn’t really considered the implications of.

 

“Let them try,” she said with much more conviction than she was feeling.

 

After a beat, the Soldier finally moved from his spot and took his bag.

 

“Are you ready, Natalia?” He looked at her, his eyes determined, warm—almost hopeful.

 

“Are you?”

 

The corner of his lip quirked up into something she’d call a smirk, and he offered her his hand.

 

She took it without hesitation.

 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Also if you like the art, you should definitely check out her [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilestel/pseuds/gilestel) where you can find some amazing comics!


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